


By Your Side

by stuphanie



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuphanie/pseuds/stuphanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku struggles to accept that Aoba has left and most likely gone for good. He spirals further downwards and doesn't realise just how much he needs help until someone reaches out to him. Soon, an unlikely band of misfits find comfort in each other. Will update tags as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

How long had it been since Aoba left Midorijima? A few weeks? Months, maybe? Koujaku had lost count. The only thing he was gauging right now was the drink that Mizuki slid in front of him. He downed the liquid and smacked his lips at the dry aftertaste.

“Easy there,” Mizuki mused, his eyes twinkling as he wiped a glass. It was well past closing time and Koujaku was the only one left sitting at the bar.

Koujaku snorted as he tapped his tumbler pointedly. Mizuki got the hint and filled it up once again and watched with a furrowed brow as the other man swallowed his ninth drink. Koujaku’s vision was beginning to waver but he intended to drink until he was numb. Maybe until he forgot who he was, too.

“I know you miss him,” Mizuki said quietly. It was the first time he’d mentioned Aoba since he’d left. “But drinking yourself into a coma isn't going to help any. He wouldn’t want that.”  

“And what would you know?” retorted Koujaku, but his voice remained flat and weary. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – talk about this. The empty void in his heart seemed to lessen whenever he found himself in Mizuki’s bar, drinking his alcohol and talking about superficial topics that hid the raw emotional turmoil beneath his happy exterior. His heart ached at Mizuki’s words.

Koujaku heaved a great sigh and pushed his stool away from the bar. “Never mind. I’d better head home anyway. Thanks for the drinks.”

He ambled out of the shop, hunched over like a decrepit old man well beyond his years. Mizuki caught his profile as he turned away to trudge up the street. With a helpless shake of his head, Mizuki placed the last glass in its cabinet, then switched off the lights before he, too, retired for the night. 

* * *

 

Koujaku threw himself into bed, still fully clothed, and pulled out a wrinkled piece of card from underneath his pillow. The sheets were beginning to smell stale but he ignored it. He felt himself tear open anew as he looked at the photograph with tired eyes. Mink stood with his arm around Aoba, a ghost of a smile playing about his face as Tori perched on his shoulder and Aoba held Ren close to his chest. It looked complete and suddenly Koujaku felt as if he were intruding on something private as his best friend’s frozen face beamed back at him. Lost in thought, Koujaku jumped slightly as Beni settled himself on a pillow next to his master. The allmate put two and two together instantly, and merely bumped Koujaku’s cheek with his beak. He didn’t say anything, and for that Koujaku was grateful. 

* * *

 

Koujaku’s daily routine had changed a lot. For the longest time he stayed holed up in his home, wearing the same clothes for days on end, until Mizuki turned up on his doorstep and all but launched him into the bathroom to take a well-needed shower whilst the tattooist cleaned up the place. Countless take-out cartons were crammed into a bin bag, followed by the odd beer bottle and trashy DVDs that he knew Koujaku wouldn’t watch in his normal state. Despite his bickering, deep down Koujaku was thankful that Mizuki had managed to pull him out of this bottomless rut he had somehow worked himself into. True, Koujaku had gone back to cutting hair and flirting with clients, but it was all empty words to fill his day; there was no Aoba to visit in the evening or share food with, even though he knew Tae wouldn’t mind him eating her cooking, it just wasn’t the same without Aoba and his shock of blue hair. And so, Koujaku saved his melancholy for when he was in bed alone, and plastered on a fake smile when in company – except Mizuki could always see past this façade.

Mizuki huffed air through his nose as Koujaku walked into Black Needle for the fifth night running. He took his customary seat at the bar, ignoring the babble of talk around him, and tapped the wooden top to order a drink. Instead of serving him a strong spirit, Mizuki glowered at him.

“I’m not serving you tonight, Koujaku,” he said flatly, leaning against the counter.

Koujaku looked outraged. “Why the hell not? I’ve got a right to be here and drink just like everybody else.”

“Keep your voice down,” the other implored, moving closer to his friend. “Being here every night is unhealthy. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Koujaku turned his head. Yes, he’d seen how gaunt he’d become, dark rings permanently under his eyes and stubble sprouting along his jaw. He said nothing, not wanting to prove Mizuki right, but somehow his silence spoke volumes.

“Go home,” Mizuki said softly, resting a comforting hand on Koujaku’s shoulder. “Get some sleep. Maybe call up some of Benishigure – or what about that weird kid with the gas mask?”

Koujaku snorted. “I’d rather not.”

Mizuki shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s your call. All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to move on. It’s been three months, Koujaku, perhaps a change of scenery and some other friends would do you some good.”

With a gently smile, Mizuki moved down to the other end of the bar to serve a group of women some fancy cocktails. They laughed and flirted, throwing compliments at Mizuki, which he laughed off as he flirted back. He was right – of course he was – and it was clear that Koujaku had to start helping himself, that digging his heels in and living in the past would get him nowhere. Sighing, he pushed his way out of Black Needle, turning sharply in the opposite direction that would take him home.

Koujaku walked with his head down, wondering idly where his feet were taking him, but carried on walking aimlessly, the concrete slabs of the pavement becoming a repetitive pattern burned into his eyes – until he bumped into something tall.

“What the –” Koujaku looked up, glaring, until he recognised the other person. They had his back to him, but that mop of white hair was unmistakeable. “Clear?”

At the sound of his name, Clear swung round, umbrella in hand and gas mask obscuring his face. Somehow, Koujaku could tell that he was smiling.

“Koujaku-san!” he cried in such genuine excitement that it made Koujaku’s chest ache. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He hadn’t changed much, Koujaku thought, surveying the other man’s exterior as he folded up his umbrella. Clear’s outfit was the same, along with his attitude and way that he spoke to Koujaku as if it had only been days since they’d last seen each other rather than months.

“Sometimes I like to take a walk at night,” Clear explained, lifting his head to the sky. “I like to look at all the stars because they remind me of Aoba-san, and it makes me hope that he is happy where he is.”

Hearing Aoba’s name felt like a stab in the gut. When Koujaku spoke, his voice was surprisingly hoarse. “Is that so?” Somehow, Koujaku couldn’t bring himself to be disdainful. In a way, he envied Clear’s outlook on life; for some reason, other peoples’ happiness became his happiness. It seemed like a simple way to live, if not inconvenient.

“Yes,” the android continued, facing back to Koujaku again. “I know that Mink-san will make Aoba-san very happy. But,” Clear’s voice had suddenly undertaken a worried quality, “Koujaku-san looks sad.”

He almost laughed at Clear’s tactless ability to point out the obvious. He managed a small smile, anyway. “I’ve felt better.”

“Do you want to talk about it, Koujaku-san? Grandpa always said that a problem shared is a problem halved,” Clear offered.

“Erm – no, I should be fine. Thanks,” Koujaku added as an afterthought.

“That’s okay,” said Clear cheerfully, completely unperturbed.

“I should really be getting home –”

“Let me walk you home, Koujaku-san,” said Clear, suddenly appearing at Koujaku’s side. It was evident that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

Clear began talking rapidly all the way back to Koujaku’s home, asking him questions about this and that and, thankfully, steered clear of the subject of Aoba. The android seemed mostly curious in Koujaku’s life, questioning his hobbies and other trivial matters, even commenting on how Midorjima had changed since Platinum Jail. It was refreshing for Koujaku to talk with someone else; with Mizuki, it seemed that the pair were constantly skirting around the subject of Aoba.

“This is me,” announced Koujaku some time later.

“You live in such a nice place,” Clear commented, looking up at the building.

“It’s a roof over my head,” Koujaku shrugged, pulling out his keys. He coughed awkwardly, wondering whether he should say his goodbyes or offer Clear a drink. “Do – do you want to come inside…?”

“Oh! No, thank you, Koujaku-san,” Clear said happily. “The hour is late, but maybe I will tomorrow! Bye-bye!”

With a jaunty wave, Clear set off back up the street, this time unfolding his umbrella and gazing at stars as he walked. Koujaku smiled gently as he watched him go before letting himself into his home, the tight feeling in his chest loosening slightly.


	2. Chapter 2

Koujaku had barely set down his razor the next morning when a brisk knock sounded at his door. He wasn’t due any clients for a couple of hours. Wiping the excess shaving foam off of his face, he made his way down the corridor, pulling his robe tighter as he opened the door.

“Good morning, Koujaku-san!”

“What – Clear?” Koujaku asked, perplexed. “Why are you here?”

“Visiting you,” the other chirruped happily, practically dancing on the spot. He stopped when he saw Koujaku’s expression. “Would you rather me leave, Koujaku-san?”

“No, no,” Koujaku replied hurriedly so as not to hurt the android’s feelings. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh! Well I told you last night I’d come today,” Clear sang, his happy demeanour back in place.

“I see,” was all the hairdresser could think to say. If he was to be honest, he truly didn’t expect Clear to follow up on his proposition the night before. Then again, this foolish thought rather reflected how little Koujaku knew the other man. “Um, come on in.”

Clear stepped over the threshold, promptly leaving his heavy boots by the door. He glanced around the hall, taking in his surroundings. Being unable to see his expression made Koujaku nervous.

“Come through, I was just about to make some coffee.”

“Thank you,” Clear said graciously, following the other down the hall. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Koujaku-san.”

“Not at all. Only my morning shave.” Koujaku offered a smile before switching on the coffee machine. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a visitor in his house that wasn’t Mizuki or a client. In truth, Koujaku felt uncharacteristically nervous and skirted around the kitchen uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It didn’t help that Clear stood where his was, probably more at ease than Koujaku was, making the whole thing feel as if they were two strangers forced into a room together.

“You can sit down, you know,” Koujaku told the other man as he pulled out two clean mugs from the cupboard.

“Oh! Thank you, Koujaku-san.” Clear promptly pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, sitting, in Koujaku’s opinion, rather formally with his hands folded in his lap. Clear’s head swivelled to focus on the black bag of hair supplies in the corner of the kitchen. “Are you expecting many people today, Koujaku-san?”

“A few.” Koujaku set a small jug of cream on the table followed by two steaming mugs of fresh coffee.

“Why do you like cutting hair so much, Koujaku-san?”

Koujaku remained quiet for a moment. Truthfully, he had never questioned it, until the image of his smiling mother entered his mind. She’d taught him to be gentle and deft with his fingers, and they often spent evenings where Koujaku would braid strands of her hair, twisting it this way and that into various styles. He remembered her laugh and the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners. But he couldn’t tell Clear that.

“By making people look good, they feel good in return,” he replied slowly after sometime. It wasn’t strictly true, but it was the best way that he could describe it.

“That’s very selfless of you, Koujaku-san.” Clear popped out a drinking straw from his gas mask and gently sipped at his coffee, missing the blush on the other man’s cheeks. Koujaku watched him closely as he drank from his own mug. Is this what guys did when they hung out with each other? Just sit in companionable silence whilst they shared hot beverages? Koujaku had never entertained someone like Clear before. He seemed relatively content, Koujaku thought to himself, noting how Clear’s head seemed to pan the room; either lost in thought or taking everything in was anyone’s guess.

“Why don’t you take your mask off?” Koujaku asked after some time. “You’d be able to drink better then.”

Apparently, he had said the wrong thing, for Clear shook his head frantically. “No, I couldn’t possibly do that Koujaku-san!”

Koujaku frowned, very much puzzled. “Why is that?”

“I’m really sorry, Koujaku-san, but I can't tell you, I couldn’t tell Aoba-san when he asked,” gabbled Clear, clutching his mask as if the other man would tear it off his face. When Koujaku didn’t move, and only surveyed him disconcertedly, Clear stilled his erratic movements.

“I’m sorry for prying,” Koujaku apologized. Evidently, it was a sore subject, for whatever reason, and instantly he felt foolish for asking when they were barely even friends – even more so when he remembered that Clear had worn the mask ever since they had met in the beginning.

“It’s quite alright!” came Clear’s reply, beginning to fluster himself all over again. He sipped the dregs of his coffee up through his straw before turning his attention to the oven. “Do you cook much, Koujaku-san?”

“No,” the other admitted, relieved at the shift in topic. The oven was pristine and showed no signs of recent use.

“Me neither,” said Clear conversationally, resting his chin on his hands. “I miss Tae-san’s cooking.”

Koujaku’s mouth lifted into a smile at this. “She’s an excellent cook.”

“I liked those sweet doughballs that she made for us all that time…”

“I could make some if you want,” Koujaku blurted out before he could stop himself. In an instant he could have kicked himself – but felt relatively confused when he found that he didn’t regret the offer at all. He missed Tae’s cooking too, and perhaps sharing it with Clear wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Really?” cried Clear, clapping his hands together.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I watched her make them often enough. Though I doubt they’d be as good,” Koujaku added hurriedly. Now that he had opened his big mouth, he wanted to avoid as much disappointment as possible. 

“Will you make them now?”

Koujaku glanced at the clock. His first client of the day would be arriving soon. “Not right now, but later, okay?” he compromised. “I have to set up, now.”

“Of course!” Clear leapt up. “See you later, Koujaku-san! Thank you for the drink!”

Clear promptly exited the kitchen, pausing only for a moment in the hall before the front door opened and closed. Koujaku leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh before his lips quirked up into a small smile. Mizuki was right; maybe having someone else around wouldn’t be a bad idea, after all. 

* * *

 

As the last of blonde locks fell to the floor, Koujaku’s last client of the day admired her haircut in the mirror, gushing over his prowess. Koujaku simply smiled as she showered him with compliments, even flirting back. Somehow, the anticipation of spending time in the company of someone as opposed to frittering his life away in Black Needle or wallowing in his own self-pity brought about a change in Koujaku’s mood. He wasn’t even annoyed when the client offered another means of ‘payment’, and found himself humming contentedly as he straightened couch cushions.

It was a little after five when Clear knocked at the door, his silhouette blurred through the glass panes.

“Koujaku-san!” Clear sang the moment the door opened. “Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Not at all.”

“You’ve already made the batter?” Clear asked as they entered the kitchen, peering into a bowl on the counter.

Koujaku rather thought he sensed a slight disappointed undertone to Clear’s voice. “Yeah – I had nothing else to do so I got started.”

“I see.” Clear paused for a moment. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Something told Koujaku that denying the other’s help would only disappoint him further. “You could pass me up a skillet from the cupboard,” he said, beginning to tie an apron around his waist.

Clear began rifling through said cupboard, rather noisily, before he stopped abruptly. “What’s a skillet?”

_This guy_ , Koujaku thought fondly.

“Like a frying pan.”

“This one?”

“Yeah, that will do.”

Clear watched attentively as the other began to pour oil into the pan, then turning on the heat. Koujaku gave the batter a quick stir to blend the ingredients that had separated. He caught Clear looking and handed him a clean spoon.

“When the oil starts to bubble slightly, scoop up some batter and drop it in carefully. Okay?”

Clear nodded vigorously, loading his tablespoon to the edges before allowing it to sink into the hot oil. Instantly, the batter began to bubble.

“Shall I do some more?” Clear asked eagerly.

“Sure.”

Fairly soon, the skillet was full of various sized batter balls floating on the surface. Clear had gone rather quiet, watching the food’s progress. Koujaku had never cooked with anyone else before, and he was beginning to see the appeal; the thought of sharing a meal with someone that they had both worked on brought a smile to his face. Tae didn’t permit people to help in the kitchen, so this was a pleasant change.

“Okay,” said Koujaku once the batter had begun to take on a golden brown quality, “I think they’re about done now. Could you pass me that bowl?”

“Of course, Koujaku-san.” Clear handed over a bowl lined with paper towels, watching intently as Koujaku drained the oil and set the donuts upon the paper. “They look good.”

Koujaku smiled. “Let’s hope they taste as good as they look, then.”

He placed the food on the table and, after a quick _itadakimasu_ , both men brought a morsel to their mouths. Clear’s vanished in an instant beneath his mask and he voiced his pleasure almost at once.

“They’re really tasty, Koujaku-san!”

“They’re not bad,” the other conceded. True, they weren’t as good as what Tae used to make, but they were passable. Koujaku slipped into a comfortable silence as they ate. The food that they shared seemed to bring them closer somehow, and Koujaku was reminded that this was a reminder of his and Clear’s first encounter and first meal shared together.

“Thank you for inviting me round,” Clear said sometime later. He wasn’t looking at Koujaku; rather, his head was tilted down to face the table. He sounded humble, bordering on melancholy. “It’s nice to spend time with a friend.”

For some reason, Clear’s words felt like a punch in the gut. Before Koujaku could speak, Clear continued to talk to the table top.

“It was lonely when Aoba-san left, but it’s not all bad, because then I got to spend more time with Koujaku-san.” Even though his face was obscured, Koujaku thought that he could sense a smile.

“Have you been on your own all this time?” Koujaku asked, his brow wrinkling, his expression something that resembled concern.

“No,” admitted Clear, “I saw Noiz-san sometimes so that was nice, but then he said something about going to Germany to amend things with his family – so then Noiz-san left, too.”

The tight feeling in Koujaku’s chest contracted as he thought about Clear alone in his own home, drifting about aimlessly, wondering why all these people had abandoned him. A sad Clear was almost unimaginable, like Noiz being friendly or Mizuki playing Rhyme. Right now, Koujaku felt, for the first time, that he had been better off; despite his best friend moving away, he had had Mizuki, whereas Clear had almost no one. Pity flooded the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the dejected man before him.

“What do you say we do this again tomorrow?” Koujaku suggested.

In an instant, Clear perked up. “Will we cook Tae-san’s donuts again?”

“I was thinking of making something different – something that I’d learned growing up.”

“I’d love to! It’d be nice to learn about Koujaku-san’s childhood.”

Koujaku couldn’t help but smile. It was only when the android left sometime later that Koujaku realised that, maybe, he didn’t mind sharing his past with Clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh i love Clear so much, i don't like thinking about him being all alone :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 updates in one day, hot damn

Koujaku rose late the next morning, shrugging on his kimono from the previous day before making his way to the kitchen, leaving Beni in sleep mode on his pillow. The skillet had remained on the hob and, smiling to himself as he fondly reflected on yesterday’s events, Koujaku made a mental note to clear it up later.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself as he began to pour milk into his coffee, only for an infinitesimal amount to trickle out of the carton. Grumbling to himself, he made his way out, making another note to buy more than one carton of milk in future.

A short time later, Koujaku exited the convenience store, laden with a bag of several cartons of milk and set off back up the street. As he walked, the back of his neck prickled, giving him the peculiar sensation that he was being followed.

“Hey, old man,” a voice, alarmingly familiar, sounded from behind him. There was only one person who called him that... 

“Oi, has your hearing gone in your old age?”

Koujaku turned round, a disdainful eyebrow raised as he came face to face with Noiz. Truly, the brat hadn’t changed much; he still carried that undefinable air of arrogance and various pieces of metal still littered his face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Germany?” asked Koujaku, his mouth curled into the sneer he couldn’t help adopting whenever he crossed paths with the blond.

Noiz shrugged, supremely unconcerned. “Didn’t work out. This place suits me a lot better.”

Koujaku snorted. “It was a lot quieter without you here.”

He began walking again, only to find Noiz keeping up in step with him. There was something about him even when he wasn’t talking that made Koujaku want to kick his teeth in. Maybe it was because he remembered how dejected Clear was when he left, and now he’s back like nothing happened?

Koujaku shook his head to rid himself of the thought. No, that couldn’t be it. Noiz pissed him off anyway; it was a general rule of thumb.

“What do you want, Noiz?”

“Just seeing how my old man is doing,” Noiz grinned in his usual irritating fashion.

“I’m not your old man.”

“Come on, surely you missed me a little bit, right?”

“Fuck off, Noiz.”

Noiz ignored his hostile tone. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, pretending to be deep in thought. “Now that I think of it, I almost didn’t recognise you. You’ve sure aged a lot in three months – are they grey hairs I see?”

Koujaku said nothing, chewing on his tongue to prevent himself from biting back. Instead, he picked up pace, annoyed to find that Noiz wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“Ah, maybe if I’d dyed my hair blue, then you might have missed me some, right?”

Suddenly, the plastic carrier bag containing the milk cartons thudded to the pavement and Noiz found himself slammed against a brick wall with Koujaku snarling in his face. Rather than looking scared, the brat was actually pleased he’d gotten a rise out of the other man.

“This is like the old days, huh?” Noiz said with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” spat Koujaku. “You know nothing.”

He released Noiz, then bent down to snatch up his milk cartons and stalked off up the street. Noiz watched him go, an odd feeling coiling in his stomach. 

* * *

 

Koujaku was seething.

He flung the milk into the fridge with unwonted venom, wringing his fists around the plastic carrier bag as if it was Noiz’s neck, pacing the kitchen restlessly. He hated how easily the brat could rub him the wrong way, or say things that had more of an impact just because of who he was…

Grabbing his keys, Koujaku stormed out, intending on going to the only place where he knew he could calm down. 

* * *

 

As expected, Mizuki reprimanded Koujaku for rising to Noiz’s bait.

“You’re better than that,” Mizuki told his friend wearily, serving a glass of iced tea. He caught the incredulous look on Koujaku’s face. “No drinking before five.”

“Fine,” grumbled Koujaku, sipping the sweet liquid apprehensively. It was better than he thought it would’ve been. He sighed. “It’s just he always knows how to piss me off. Why does he always have to bring up Aoba?”

“Because he knows it gets you riled.”

Koujaku huffed nosily. “At least take my side here. I didn’t think that you even like the guy.”

Mizuki shrugged. “He’s been here a couple of times. He’s quiet, keeps to himself. Maybe he’s just got it out for you.” Mizuki grinned as Koujaku swatted at him.

Koujaku chuckled. “I guess.” His expression turned serious again. “If he’d just stop being such a jerk...”

“Curb your temper more,” Mizuki advised him. “You know why Noiz does what he does, and to what end? You’re only making it worse for yourself. You’re an adult now, he’s still a kid, and he’s got a lot to learn.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the one to teach him.”

 Mizuki shrugged. “Someone’s got to. A kid in a strange city away from his family? You’re one of the best guys I know, Koujaku. All I'm saying is that you’re better than letting someone get to you like he does.”

Koujaku sighed in what could be considered wordless agreement, then smirked at his friend. “You’re really full of wise advice, aren’t you?”

Mizuki chuckled. “I just keep a cool head and don’t let stupid shit bother me.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a stand-up guy.” Koujaku drained his ice tea and rattled the ice cubes in the glass. “Top up? Only this time something stronger.”

Within a couple of hours, Koujaku remained in Black Needle – only he had half a mind to leave when Mizuki laid into him again, this time about Clear.

“Don’t blow the guy off just so you can sit here and get pissed,” Mizuki told him firmly.

“He’ll understand, I need to unwind,” Koujaku replied. He didn’t miss the way Mizuki raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

As expected, Clear took being let down better than most people would have done, which Koujaku was quick to point out to the bartender.

“You’re taking advantage of his nature,” sighed Mizuki.

Koujaku snorted but felt his ears burn in shame. Trust Mizuki to be the only one to tell it to him straight. Deciding not to comment further – or rather, to put a lid on the shame that clawed up inside him – Koujaku downed the alcohol in front of him as if it was going out of fashion. He’d forgotten all about Noiz now; he wasn’t mad anymore, but continued to use the blond as an excuse to sit at the bar and piss his worries away. Rather, his motive to drink was now to numb the guilt he felt about cancelling on Clear. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a big deal, they hardly knew each other, but when he was reminded of how lonely Clear had been, Koujaku felt worse in turn.

“T-time to go home,” announced Koujaku sometime later. Darkness had fallen outside and the combination of many drinks swilled about his stomach in a sickening way. He was drunk, he knew, and he needed his bed.

“Good idea,” agreed Mizuki. “Get home safe, Koujaku.”

“Suuuure.”

Koujaku practically fell out of Black Needle, then pulling himself upright before he began stumbling his way along the street. Occasionally he steadied himself on a nearby wall, standing still as the world spun around him.

“Still can't handle your drink? Some things never change.”

Clumsily, Koujaku turned his head round. For a moment, the other person was undiscernible, until finally he could make out a mop of blond hair and piercings that glinted back at him.

“Y-you,” Koujaku slurred, doing his best to hold himself straight.

“Come on, old man, you’re in a state. You need to get home.” Noiz made to hold the other man’s upper arm.

“Get off me,” murmured Koujaku, pulling himself out of Noiz’s grip. “Why do you even care if I get home or not? Wouldn’t you like to see someone beat the shit out of me?”

“Nobody is allowed to beat the shit out of you except me, old man. Now stop being stubborn.”

This time, Koujaku permitted himself to be led along by the younger man. In truth, he was far too tired and inebriated to struggle, especially when Noiz, while sober, could overpower him much more easily. Koujaku stumbled and lost his footing so many times that Noiz stopped walking, sighing irritably.

“You’re an absolute mess.”

Noiz placed Koujaku’s arm around his neck while Noiz supported his waist and set off again, holding the taller man up the best he could.

“Why are you doing this?” Koujaku slurred as they hobbled along the street.

“Just shut up and concentrate on walking.”

“Ahhh, you care about me after all.” Koujaku sniggered in an irritating fashion.

“I swear, I’ll leave you in the gutter if you carry on talking.”

“Pfft.”

They lapsed into silence again. Noiz cleared his throat awkwardly a couple of times before speaking again.

“Look, about earlier…” He paused and sighed. He wasn’t too great with apologies. “I didn’t mean what I said – you know, when I taunted you about Aoba.”

Koujaku didn’t reply straight away. It took a moment for Noiz’s words to settle upon his ears and sink in. Even in his current state, Koujaku understood the underlying message.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Sorry I nearly kicked your head in.”

Noiz huffed air through his nose. “I’m used to that by now.”

Despite the statement ringing true, he couldn’t quite keep the bitter tone from his voice.

“Aoba was the sticky stuff that held us altogether. It’s strange with him gone,” Noiz said quietly.

Koujaku squinted at the younger man. Noiz looked back and, even though neither of them would admit it, this had been the longest time they had gone without arguing or, at least, feeling the overwhelming urge to knock the other’s head off.

“Tell you what,” said Koujaku, Mizuki’s words from earlier ringing in his ears, “I’ll stop being such a hot-headed ass if you stop being a jerk.”

Noiz snorted, amused. “Whatever, old man, I’m not promising anything.”

“I didn’t expect anything different,” Koujaku replied, but he was smiling. He looked up at his surroundings, the buildings familiar. “Ah, this is my house.”

He slipped from Noiz’s hold and instantly regretted it as cold night air washed over him when he ascended the steps to his house.

“You sure you don’t need help? You could fall and break your hip,” Noiz called.

Koujaku waved him off. “And I’m sure you’d be heartbroken if that happened.” He paused. “Hey – um, thanks for… you know.” He wanted to say ‘thanks for walking me home’ but somehow his brain wouldn’t let him. Fortunately, Noiz understood, and the blond was rather relieved that something so sappy didn’t come out of Koujaku’s mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep tight, old man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mizuki is literally *the* voice of reason and just wants everyone to get along because he's sweet like that


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Koujaku’s memory was hazy. He vaguely remembered Noiz bringing him home, and the next thing Koujaku had stumbled through his door and collapsed on the couch. Groaning and bringing a hand to his thumping head, Koujaku rolled off of the couch and stumbled to the bathroom, the stagnant aftertaste of alcohol clinging to his tongue. As he squirted toothpaste onto a toothbrush, fragments of the previous night began making themselves clear. Noiz had definitely helped him home, but why? After all this time, and after the animosity between them, why would he do such a thing? Isn't that something that is saved for friends, or at least two people who are on good terms? The notion as confusing in itself – but perhaps Noiz had taken pity? Koujaku wasn’t fond of that idea. He needed no one’s pity, least of all Noiz’s.

“Shit,” Koujaku hissed as his doorbell rang. He spat his toothpaste out before yanking open the front door, albeit more aggressively than he intended.

“Koujaku-san!”

Clear’s voice rang straight through the hall and reverberated inside Koujaku’s sore head. Squinting against light pouring in from outside, he stepped aside.

“It’s a bit early to be visiting, isn't it?” he muttered as Clear entered. His eyes still burned and he rubbed them vigorously, then massaging his temples in an attempt to curb his worsened headache.

“But it’s midday,” Clear explained. “I saw Mizuki-san on his way to work earlier, and I was concerned that Koujaku-san wasn’t feeling good last night, so he suggested I visit you.”

“Top guy, that Mizuki,” grumbled Koujaku. He caught sight of a cardboard box in Clear’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” Clear lifted the lid; inside were several donuts with various glazes. They looked delicious but sickly. “Sweets make me feel better when I’m sad.”

Koujaku managed a smile. “Thanks, but I’m not feeling sad. Just sore.”

“Mizuki-san did mention you might have an overhang,” said Clear knowledgeably.

“A hangover,” Koujaku corrected him with a smile. “Well, since you’re here, are you staying for a drink?”

“Of course,” replied Clear, and he followed Koujaku down the hall to the kitchen.

Truly, Koujaku mused as he made a fresh pot of coffee, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so much time in his kitchen. As Clear sat down, Koujaku was reminded – albeit unpleasantly – of women who would meet up after the school run for a gossip. The analogy was quite the opposite of the present situation, so, when Koujaku handed Clear a cup, he hovered near the door.

“We’ll go in the lounge today,” he said, jerking his head for Clear to follow him.

“I haven’t seen Koujaku-san’s living room before,” Clear said conversationally.

“That’s because you’ve never visited until a few days ago.”

The living room was cosy, to say the least, albeit messy. It had been decorated with a monochrome theme in mind; a black leather sofa sat against a wall with a television in front of it, as well as a couple of matching chairs set into corners. Bookshelves were set into one of the walls, but were relatively sparse, save for a couple of magazines, and several clumps of indiscernible mess littered the more sparse areas of the room. Much of the floor was occupied by several rugs – mainly to hide the threadbare areas of the carpet underneath.

Clear followed suit when Koujaku slumped back onto the sofa that he had spent the night on. Clear gazed around the room in wonder. They slipped into silence for a short time whilst they sipped at coffee, so when Clear cried out Koujaku nearly up-ended the mug all over himself.

“Koujaku-san!”

“Shit – what is it?”

Clear inched closer and Koujaku’s neck began to feel uncomfortably warm. “What?” he repeated, his brow furrowed apprehensively.

“You have something – there.”

Clear reached out a gloved finger and wiped away a smear of forgotten toothpaste from the corner of the other’s mouth. Their faces were dangerously close and Koujaku felt his heart pound. He could see the finer details of the other’s mask, and could swear that he caught a glimpse of Clear’s eyes.

“There, all clean,” sang Clear, leaning back against the sofa and continuing to drink his beverage, as if the exchange had been nothing.

But it had been something – the traitorous way that Koujaku’s pulse peaked made sure of that. Shaking his head, he distanced himself from the other man slightly. He couldn’t be attracted to Clear – how could he when he’d never seen his face, or when they’d barely said more than five words to each other until a couple of days ago?

“Ridiculous,” Koujaku murmured, and only when Clear’s head turned did he realise that he’d said it out loud.

“Did you say something, Koujaku-san?”

“Oh, um, no, just – uh – saying how nice the coffee is.”

The lie was pathetic, but seemed to convince Clear. “It is, isn't it?”

Lapsing into silence again, Koujaku nudged at a forgotten jacket on the floor. Up until now, he’d never bothered himself with the state of his house. True, Clear didn’t seemed bothered one iota, but embarrassment prickled at Koujaku’s neck as the less tidy elements of the room were thrown into more relief with someone else present.

“I swear I’ll tidy up next time you’re round,” Koujaku promised, draining his mug and setting it on the coffee table.

“It’s quite alright, Koujaku-san,” Clear assured him. He paused for a moment. “Shall I help you? That’s what friends do, isn't it? I read it in a magazine somewhere.”

“What magazine was that? _Good Housekeeping_?” When Clear only looked blank, Koujaku sighed. “No, Clear, you don’t have to help me tidy my house.”

Clear swivelled to face the other man, a distinct aura of joy radiating from him. What was it with this kid? Was he really getting excited over the prospect of two men taking out the trash?

“But I want to,” he urged, “if it’s something that friends do, then I want to help Koujaku-san.”

Was there an easy way of telling him that friends didn’t usually clean together?

No, Koujaku decided at last. Just seeing Clear poised in such an eager fashion made it so that he couldn’t let him down. Not for a second time.

“Fine,” Koujaku conceded after some time. “But tomorrow though – now I just need to sleep off this headache.” 

* * *

 

The house was quiet without Clear for some reason. Koujaku half expected to turn around and see the white-haired man staring at him intently, speaking only to ask questions for clarification. He really was rather a strange being; Koujaku had never known anyone who considered chores a chance to bond with someone.

Sighing, Koujaku slipped off his kimono before changing into lounge pants and sliding into his bed. Just being in such a tranquil environment seemed to lessen his headache somewhat. He pulled the duvet over his head and burrowed further down inbetween the sheets; they smelled of clean linen and were a crisp white.

_Like Clear’s hair_.

Koujaku furrowed his brow and pulled the covers tighter around himself, as if to block out other intrusive thoughts. Why was he reminded of Clear now? Nothing special had happened – if Koujaku didn’t count the odd exchange where Clear took it upon himself to wipe away toothpaste from his mouth like a fussy mother goose.

Not that it was a bad thing. Was Koujaku truly relishing the idea of being fussed over, lest it be another man? Clear’s attitude was generally caring; it had been a simple gesture, he would’ve done the same for anyone else, because he was just that way. And yet, as Koujaku dwelled on it more – or rather pondered, because what was there to even dwell on? – it had somehow become something more. Mizuki didn’t fuss in the way Clear did. Sure, he cared, but in the way that he wanted the best for everyone. Clear cared in the way that he would make you hot chocolate if you couldn’t sleep, or he’d trek to the convenience store just for some medicine if you were sick. Was that what Koujaku was missing out on, someone to worry over him? Or was it the other way round? He’d looked out for Aoba and, with him gone, Koujaku felt empty knowing that it would now be Mink doing the caring and fussing and loving.

Clear was a good person – there was no denying that. He could be good for Koujaku, perhaps even good for each other, as _friends_.

_But what person’s heart races when his friend touches him in such an innocent way?_

Sure, Koujaku had loved Aoba since they were kids, and somehow, accepting the protective and almost affectionate feelings he held for Clear felt as if he were betraying his best friend somehow. Aoba would want him to be happy, Koujaku knew that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t allowed to feel for someone else. Or rather, he didn’t deserve to.

With another sigh, Koujaku rolled over onto his side, pulling up the duvet so that it blocked out the intrusive afternoon sun. He tossed and turned for some time, until the sun began to set and the birds ceased their chirping.

Eventually, he drifted off into a light slumber, his sleep plagued with dreams of a faceless man with white hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Koujaku should just get a spare key cut for Clear already


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hold on tight kids because we're going on a feel trip

Clear’s idea of ‘cleaning’, it transpired, consisted mainly of wafting a pink feather duster about the room and making more mess than he was eradicating. Countless times, Koujaku picked up a fallen CD or book with a weary sigh, slotting it back into place only for it to be knocked off again.

“Clear,” said Koujaku after some time, “why don’t you leave the dusting for now? I think you’ve done a good enough job.”

“I’m glad you think so,” sang Clear, thankfully propping the feather duster up against the wall. Koujaku made a mental note to throw it out the minute he got chance. “What would you like me to do instead?”

“Um…” The hairdresser caught sight of various garments scattered about the lounge. His own arms were already fully with clean laundry, so jerked his head in their general direction. “Bring those to my room, if you would.”

Clear practically skipped up the stairs and promptly dropped the armful of clothes atop the bed with a soft flump. He picked up one of the jackets and admired it closely.

“I’ve never seen you wear things like this, Koujaku-san.”

Koujaku looked over with a smile. “I prefer to be traditional.”

“I see.” Clear tilted his head to one side questioningly. “What shall I do with these?”

“Just start folding them up, ready to be put away.”

“I’m good at folding clothes,” commented Clear, setting one of the jackets on the bed. “Grandpa taught me how to do lots of things.”

“Were you close to your grandpa, Clear?” asked Koujaku, turning away to open his wardrobe. When Clear spoke again, he sounded uncharacteristically sad.

“Yes. I was very sad when – when he died.”

Koujaku paused. His lack of tact was truly brilliant. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Koujaku-san. Aoba-san explained that Grandpa wasn’t suffering anymore, and that sometimes passing away peacefully is better.”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” He looked over at the small pile of clothes on the bed, picking up the garments and settling them into place inside their allocated drawers – only one seemed stuck.

“Damn it,” he cursed. Koujaku gave a hard yank and the drawer flew out of its prefixed rails and landed on the drawer with a clatter, balled-up socks spilling over the floor. Clear made to help, but Koujaku waved him down. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Not altogether convinced, Clear continued to fold the shirts before him. Koujaku sighed irritably, kneeling down onto the hard floor as he overturned the detached drawer. He made to place the socks back inside, but something stopped him. There, at the very bottom, was a Polaroid picture of two young boys. On closer inspection, the smaller of the two had a shock of blue hair that was distinguishable despite the photo’s obvious age, and the older boy was smiling on fondly, his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. To Koujaku’s alarm, he found his eyes stinging and a lump forming in his throat. He gave a great sniff, attracting Clear’s attention.

“Koujaku-san! What’s wrong?”

In an instant Clear was crouching down next to him. Koujaku shook his head wordlessly, words failing him at the present moment. Clear looked down at the photo.

“Is this you and Aoba-san?”

Koujaku nodded, unsurprised to find his voice to be hoarse when he spoke. “Yeah, back when we were kids. Aoba was upset so I promised to stay with him until Tae came to pick him up. I’d badgered him for a photo together for the longest time but he wouldn’t do it if he’d been crying, but the moment he smiled, I took it.”

Clear cocked his head to one side and rested a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder. His touch was light, but Koujaku’s stomach swooped. “You look very happy together.”

“Yeah,” Koujaku agreed, “it was a good time.”

He settled the photo inbetween the balled-up socks once again and stood to replace the drawer. He was quiet for some time before speaking to Clear again. He kept his back to the other man and pretended to tidy a drawer full of shirts.

“I cared for Aoba a great deal when we were kids, even more when we grew up. I was distraught when he left – even more so when I realised I couldn’t stop him.”

He heard Clear get up and appear behind him, still not daring to look at the other man in fear that his emotions would betray him. Clear was close, and his voice, though dampened by the gas mask, reverberated softly in Koujaku’s ear. He placed a comforting arm around Koujaku, presumably he’d read in some other magazine that this was how you comforted friends, but Koujaku found his warmth reassuring, and found that he possessed no desire to move away.

“Aoba-san is still with you because you have memories of him, and I know he will come back and visit one day, because I know that he cared a lot for Koujaku-san as well.”

Koujaku smiled over his shoulder. “Yeah. I know.”

“And Aoba-san wouldn’t want you to feel sad,” continued Clear, “he’d be happy if Koujaku-san moved away with someone that he loved.”

Suddenly, Koujaku felt selfish and felt his ears grow hot with shame. Clear was right, and Koujaku felt embarrassed that it had taken him this long to come to terms with facts. Hearing them being spoken seemed to make it easier, and maybe it was because Clear, usually so excitable and flippant, was being uncharacteristically serious in his words. Of course Koujaku knew that Aoba would congratulate him if he settled down and found a better life elsewhere. He knew that he wouldn’t lose his best friend; so why was he being such a bitter old man and dwelling from that past? He didn’t think he’d even sent Aoba a postcard as of yet.

“Thank you, Clear,” Koujaku said sincerely, turning to face the other man properly. “I feel a little better now.”

Disappointingly, Clear retracted his arm and proceeded with the task at hand. “It’s quite alright, Koujaku-san. I don’t like to see you sad.”

Koujaku’s stomach lurched.

_No, it was nothing; Clear doesn’t like to see anyone sad_.

His smile wavering somewhat now, Koujaku placed the last of his clothes away, before shutting the wardrobe doors and leaning against them with a sigh.

“Thanks for helping me, Clear.”

“Anytime,” the other replied happily. He paused for a moment, dipping his head and fiddling with the hem of his shirt; he seemed to be teetering on the edge of speech.

“Something wrong?”

“Koujaku-san,” said Clear suddenly and clearly, as if willing himself to speak, “was Aoba-san the reason you came back to Midorijima?”

Koujaku hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Yes.”

“Why – why was it that you left?”

Koujaku’s chest tightened and his throat constricted as he forced his features into a reserved smile. He desperately wanted to talk about with someone, anyone he had some semblance of trust with. He wanted to tell Clear, but, for some reason, his brain jammed and his mouth wouldn’t work.

“I’ll tell you what,” he managed to say after some time, “I’ll tell you why – if you take off your gas mask.”

As he expected, Clear clutched convulsively at his mask. Somewhere inside him, Koujaku felt slightly relieved, knowing that they were at a stalemate. He wouldn’t talk and Clear wouldn’t show his face.

Which was why Clear’s next word knocked him for six.

“O-okay.”

His voice wavered; Koujaku swung round and stared at him, incredulously, almost as if he didn’t quite believe he’d heard correctly.

“What?”

“I said okay, Koujaku-san.” Nervously, and with quivering fingers, Clear reached round to the back of his head.

“No, wait,” said Koujaku quickly. “I didn’t mean – what I meant was – Clear, you don’t have to,” he finally managed to say. He wiped at the nervous perspiration from the back of his neck.

“But I want to,” Clear replied meekly. “I’m happy that I became friends with Koujaku-san, and I feel as if I can trust him – because that’s what friends do, isn't it?”  

Koujaku closed and opened his mouth, intending to speak, but no sound coming out. Now what? It had been a double-bluff of sorts – he knew how much this gas mask meant to Clear, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Clear did something he’d regret.

“Clear, I –”

“Please,” interrupted Clear. He stilled his movements momentarily. “I – I want to make Koujaku-san happy, but Grandpa always said that I didn’t look like other people, that I was to always hide my face…” He heaved a shaky sigh before unbuckling one of the straps, his fingers fumbling and slipping on the leather. “I – I don’t look like other people.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Koujaku told him quietly, though he knew by Clear’s determination there was no going back now.

Clear didn’t answer, only fumbled again, jumping slightly when Koujaku appeared in front of him to reach around him and continue where he left off. His snow-white hair filtered through Koujaku’s fingers; soft and light, like silk and cotton interwoven with each other. It was a hairdresser’s dream. Swallowing hard, Koujaku undid the last strap and, just like that, the mask came loose, and he was able to slip it off easily. As slowly as possible, and with great care, Koujaku lifted the mask away from Clear’s face and gasped when Clear, finally unobstructed, gazed earnestly back at him. It was as if time had stopped. Amaranth pink eyes gazed into the red, their irises sparkling with stars that Koujaku could not see, Clear’s brow furrowed slightly as the other man drank in his visage. Two moles marked the space beneath his mouth and his nose was sharply sculpted, the tip turned up ever so slightly at the end. He was stunning.

And utterly ordinary looking.

“It’s ugly, isn't it?” whispered Clear, his eyes beginning to swim with tears.

“It’s beautiful,” Koujaku told him honestly.

“R-really?”

Koujaku nodded, and he thought Clear was about to explode with happiness on the spot. He ran his gloved hands across his own cheeks, down the slope of his nose, tracing the outline of his lips.

“Exactly like Koujaku-san’s?”

“Exactly like mine.”

Clear’s fingers lingered on his lips, before bringing up his spare hand to touch Koujaku’s mouth as well. The hairdresser flinched slightly at the sudden contact, his initial reaction to turn and run, to get out of this while he could, because he couldn’t bear the thought of caring deeply for someone else in fear that they would leave him, too.

But the fear was wiped from his mind the second the man before him pressed their mouths together, an indescribable warmth spreading through his face and his chest and arms and down to his feet. Clear tasted of a subtle sweetness, and he found his hand carding its way through Clear’s hair to the back of his head to pull him closer, to taste the mouth that reminded him of candies he would often have as a child. Clear gripped at Koujaku’s kimono, eager to feel his body, for their warmth to become one. Clear breathed heavily into the kiss, stifling a moan when Koujaku’s tongue merged with his. He was relieved, he realised, and blissfully unaware of his appearance as Koujaku’s touch urged his worries away.

“Koujaku-san,” gasped Clear when they broke away to breath.

Their eyes searched each other and Koujaku felt a sudden rush of affection for the man before him. For the first time since his departure, Aoba hadn’t even invaded his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Koujaku apologised. “I – I don’t know what came over me…”

He made to move away but found Clear pulling him back, his pink eyes so resembling fine jewels, staring at him beseechingly.

“Please, Koujaku-san,” he pleaded. “I – I would like it if you kissed me more, if you wanted to.”

Koujaku smiled fondly and cupped the other man’s blushing face. “Oh, Clear,” he whispered, his mind wiped blank when their mouths found each other once again.

Their tongues entwined and Koujaku gently led Clear to the bed without breaking the kiss, laying down and pulling the other man on top of him.

“Koujaku-san,” Clear gasped, looking slightly embarrassed. “I… I –”

“It’s okay,” the other assured him, stroking a thumb across the peachiness of Clear’s cheek. His skin reminded Koujaku of satin cushions.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Clear admitted quietly, dipping his head as a deep red blush crept upon his face.

Koujaku pecked his nose affectionately. “Yeah, me too.”

Clear smiled nervously before descending upon Koujaku again, so utterly lost in their own world that Koujaku didn’t even hear the front door open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just really wanted to write them kissing ahhhh   
> also Clear gets most of his tips from magazines and takes them very seriously~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am back from my unplanned month-long hiatus here is a new chapter enjoy~

Footsteps, muffled by the plush stair carpet, made their way to the master bedroom. The house was relatively silent. Noiz frowned. There were definitely two pairs of shoes in the hall.

Pushing open the bedroom door, a bizarre sight met his eyes: Koujaku in Clear locked in a passionate embrace, Clear’s head tilted up slightly, their bodies unnaturally close. Noiz cleared his throat loudly.

“This why you didn’t hear the doorbell, then?” he said with a snigger. “Here I was thinking you’d just gone deaf in your old age.”

The pair sprang apart and a violent blush crept upon Koujaku’s cheeks. In an instant, Clear slapped his own hands over his face, obviously in some sort of panic.

“I-I need to go –”

Blindly, the android fled the room, bumping into the corner of the double bed and tripping over fallen clothes. Downstairs, the front door slammed. Koujaku seethed.

“You couldn’t have just left quietly?” he snapped, picking up the garments from the floor.

“Sorry,” said Noiz, his tone far from apologetic and wearing that infamous shit-eating grin of his.

“What do you want, brat?”

“Seeing if you’re still alive. What’s his name – the one with the bar –?”

“Mizuki?”

“Yeah, him. He asked me to check up on you after last night and you haven’t returned any of his calls all day.”

“He called?” said Koujaku distractedly. He closed his wardrobe and fished out his Coil from underneath the dresser. The battery was dead and once he turned it on found several missed calls. “Ah, shit. Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he added irritably as Noiz threw himself on the other’s bed, mussing up the sheets. “I’m trying to tidy.”

“Not doing a very good job, are you?” the blond smirked. He stretched ostentatiously before getting to his feet again. “Is that why Clear was here, eh? Some kind of play date?”

“It’s none of your business,” the hairdresser said flatly, but he knew that his crimson ears gave him away.

“Ha, whatever, do what you like, you know.”

Noiz turned to leave but paused in the doorway.

“By the way, if you hurt him, I might have to kill you. See ya.”

Koujaku watched him vanish down the hall, the impact of the other’s words not quite sinking in. 

* * *

 

“I’m thinking of expanding.”

“Yeah? Where to?”

Mizuki shrugged. “All over I guess. I mean, I like what I do, and I was entertaining the idea of hiring an apprentice or something.”

Koujaku grinned. “Sounds ambitious.”

“I don’t think small,” the tattooist said with a wink. He turned his attention to the blond sat next to his friend. “Drink, Noiz?”

“Coffee.”

“Koujaku?”

The hairdresser shot a look at Noiz. “Yeah, same for me.”

“Coming right up.”

Mizuki vanished into the back, leaving the two men to share an uncomfortable silence by the bar. Noiz was toying unenthusiastically with a napkin, folding it this way and that. Evidently, there was nothing better for him to do today. Koujaku cleared his throat.

“What did you mean yesterday?”

The blond looked up, his face as impassive as ever. “What?”

“When you said that you might have to kill me if I hurt Clear.”

Noiz shrugged and turned back to the napkin in his hand. “He’s not a bad person.”

“And I am?” Koujaku could feel his temper rising. Keep a cool head.

“I didn’t say that, old man. Clear’s… nice. Frequently infuriating, but most people are.”

A short paused settled between them. What the hell did that mean?

“You’re not answering me properly,” muttered Koujaku with an irritable shake of his head. He was met with an impatient sigh.

“You’re so fucking blind.” Then Noiz actually laughed. “You really wouldn’t know a good thing even if it danced in front of you and stuck its tongue down your throat, would you?”

Koujaku, angry and confused, opened his mouth to retort but was stopped when Mizuki returned with two large coffee mugs. It had been carefully made; white foam threatened to spill over the brim and some sort of powdered cocoa had been dusted on the top. With a word of thanks, Koujaku brought the mug to his lips. He supposed it would have been delicious on any other day but right now it tasted like sludge and ash in his mouth as he reflected on Noiz’s words. He had no idea what the kid was on about most of the time – and in fact didn’t care to listen – but what if, on this occasion, he was right?

When Noiz stood up, Koujaku hadn’t realised that he’d held his mug aloft without actually drinking from it.

“Well, I’m out. Thanks for the coffee. And, old man,” the blond added, “now is the time you stop living in the past. Fuck knows how many people it’s going to take to tell you before you actually listen.”

Koujaku glared. He shot a look at Mizuki to which the tattooist only shrugged helplessly.

“Sorry, Kou, but I’m actually with him on this one.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” Koujaku asked loudly.

“Dumbass,” Mizuki murmured fondly. He turned to serve another customer, subsequently leaving Koujaku to stew in his own thoughts. 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” the hairdresser hissed as he lowered himself into hot bath water. He supposed the steam that curled around him would help clear his head – and yet, as he stared absentmindedly at the eddies that swirled on the surface of the water, there was only one person on his mind.

He hadn’t seen Clear since he’d fled from Koujaku’s house. He’d left his gas mask behind and Koujaku had often found himself turning it over in hand, admiring the worn leather and indentations on the straps that had held it in place for presumably many years. Idly, he wondered if that was why he hadn’t seen Clear, that he was simply too shy to show his face to come and collect it. Saying that, wouldn’t the decent thing to have done would be to have taken it to Clear, instead of expecting him to return for it? Typical Koujaku, the hairdresser sighed, thinking only of himself. Again.

He lowered himself into the bath, relishing the way the bubbles and water washed over his bare arms and chest. He had to do something. Up until now, he hadn’t acknowledged the tugging sensation in his gut, the tiny voice nagging at the back of his mind. Up until now, he hadn’t realised that he actually _missed_ Clear.

Koujaku practically skidded across the bathroom floor in his haste to get dressed. Ignoring his kimono that was desperately in need of washing, he yanked on a red sweatshirt and ripped jeans, fumbling with his Coil as he attempted to call Clear. Nothing. He tried again and again, and was only met with a dial tone at the end. Maybe he was angry at Koujaku? Well, Clear didn’t really do angry, probably more upset than anything.

“Once more,” the hairdresser muttered to himself.

Miraculously, Clear picked up on the last ring. He sounded out of breath.

“Koujaku-san!” he gasped. “What is it?”

“I need to see you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

There was silence for a moment. Then –

“I-I didn’t think you wanted to see me again,” came the meek reply.

Koujaku’s heart nearly stopped still in his chest. “What? Why?”

“I thought that after Noiz-san came in and – and you looked mad – I didn’t think –”

“Clear,” interrupted Koujaku. A small smile tugged at his mouth. “That’s silly. Of course I want to see you. Why do you think I’m calling you now? I – I was stupid. And selfish.” He paused. “I’ll come bring you your gas mask back, if you like.”

“Oh! That’s no problem,” Clear insisted, sounding somewhat more cheerful. “I found another substitute for it.”

“You have, huh? Can I see?”

“Of course!” There was a rustling sound and when Clear came back on the line his voice sounded muffled. “I’ll be there soon!”

He hung up and Koujaku leant against the wall, his heart pounding, yet somewhat relieved. 

* * *

 

“It’s – a mask. Of a lady.” Koujaku let Clear in over the threshold, ogling at the unusual get-up.

“Yep!” the other said happily.

“But I thought you were okay without wearing your mask now?”

Clear fidgeted. “I – I suppose I am, in front of Koujaku-san – provided you still want to see my face.”

“Clear.” Koujaku stepped forward and pulled the other man close, his nose nuzzling into his soft hair. “It’s okay. I could never think any less of you.”

The sincerity of these words seemed to have done it. Pulling away and, with tentative fingers, Clear pulled off the mask and allowed it to drop to the floor, answering Koujaku’s fond smile with an affectionate kiss. It was clumsy but it was Clear, sweet and precious Clear, his smile bringing a warmth like sunshine after a rainy day.

“I’m glad you’re not upset with me. I’m sorry... for what happened…” Koujaku trailed off awkwardly.

“I was never upset with you, Koujaku-san,” came the earnest reply and a lump rose in Koujaku’s throat.

Their embrace seemed to last an eternity and Koujaku found himself unwilling to move any time soon – until he remembered something.

“Clear,” he mumbled, ensuring to gain the other’s undivided attention. He didn’t want to have to say it more than once.

“Yes?”

“I… promised to tell you why I left Midorijima.” Koujaku took a deep breath. There was no easy way to say it, but now Clear had placed his trust in him, he could only do the same. He held onto the other tightly; if anything, not seeing the other’s face when he told him that he was nothing but a murderer and killed his family in cold blood would make it easier. “I –”

“Koujaku-san,” Clear interrupted gently. He pulled away so he could gaze into those red irises that burned like fire. “You don’t have to tell me. Not now. When you’re ready.”

Koujaku struggled with himself for a moment. “But I am ready.”

“You’re not. I can tell.”

The hairdresser’s gaze fell and his grip on the other man slackened. Clear was right; his unnatural perceptiveness allowed Koujaku to release a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He pecked Clear on the mouth gratefully, the kiss transcending into a more passionate exchange as late evening sun invaded the windows of the hall, swathing them in a warm orange glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's one more chapter after this what will happen??? you know what's gonna happen but read it anyway


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is. the last one. the finale. probably what i was most eager to write

Their journey upstairs was mostly silent. Koujaku led, Clear’s gloved hand grasped in his own, turning to smile over his shoulder as they reached the top landing. The now-tidy master bedroom glowed a handsome orange hue from the light outside. Oaken furniture absorbed the warm light. The entire ensemble was almost too perfect.

“Clear, I…” Koujaku trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He knew what was about to take place, but there was no easy to say what was racing through his mind: he’d never been with another man before. What if he ruined it all?

Clear took the other man’s hands in his own, sensing his discomfort. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I do!” Koujaku said so loudly his voice broke through the sleepy quiet of the room. “I’m just nervous.”

His face burned. He’d never been nervous during sex before. It was almost unheard of; yet when Clear raised his head to kiss him he felt his shoulders relax, the tension in his stomach loosening. He allowed Clear to gently push him onto the bed where they continued to entwine their tongues together, hands cupping faces and fingers carding through soft hair. Koujaku didn’t even flinch when Clear pushed his bangs back and kissed down the uncovered side of his face, uttering nothing of the taboo tattoo that marked the skin, soft lips merely pecking their way along the hairdresser’s jawline. Their chests were impeded by a barrier of clothing yet Clear rather thought that he felt Koujaku’s heart beat beneath him. Devoid of his own working heart, feeling the twitch in the other’s chest made him feel more human somehow, that they were real, as alive as each other, despite Clear being a man-made robot.

A gasp hitched in Koujaku’s throat as he became aware of a soft mouth forming a path of kisses down his neck while a hand danced on a jean-clad thigh. Clear’s touch was light and barely-there yet the sensation caused sparks to ripple across the surface of the other’s skin. It was something Koujaku was so unfamiliar with. Whenever he’d brought a girl back they were always so persistent, intent on tearing their clothes off as quickly as possible. Clear was different. As if he genuinely cared and took pride in how slowly he was doing things.

Deft fingers worked at Koujaku’s zipper and the jeans fell to the floor with a soft flump. Koujaku felt heat rising up his neck. Suddenly aware of the prominent hardness in his underwear, he squirmed as Clear looked down when he gently eased the garment off, his gaze pinned to the other’s member. It was flattering but at the same time rather uncomfortable. He felt exposed. Acting upon his own initiative, the hairdresser reached out and mirrored Clear’s previous actions, melding their mouths together again so Clear would finally stop looking at his cock.

“Koujaku-san is so pretty,” the android murmured into the other’s mouth, grasping Koujaku’s length gently, eliciting a gasp from the man below him. “Shall I take my shirt off, too?”

Koujaku smiled fondly. “If you like.”

Soon, they were both entirely naked, devoid of socks and shirts and everything else. Koujaku rested against the pillows as Clear kneeled over him to peck kisses down his torso. Watching him do so, Koujaku tensed up.

“What’s wrong, Koujaku-san?” came a concerned voice.

The other man shook his head. “Nothing. Still a bit nervous, that’s all.”

Nodding gently, Clear began to ghost his hands over Koujaku’s chest as he moved lower. The hairdresser’s fingers wound themselves into Clear’s tresses, moaning quietly at the way his nipples were rolled between Clear’s fingers coupled with the way he had now begun to trail his tongue along Koujaku’s lower abdomen. It felt otherworldly.

“Ah!”

The tip of Clear’s tongue flicked over the head of Koujaku’s cock, swiping away the bead of precum that had gathered there. His tongue gave another tantalising lick before the entirety of Koujaku’s length was engulfed by a deliciously wet warmth that he had no other recollection of experiencing. He couldn’t resist undulating his hips slightly; short, sharp, jerking movements, an unmeasurable amount of ecstasy washing over him as Clear poised his tongue just on his taint before licking right up to the engorged head again.

“C-Clear,” Koujaku managed to stutter out. Immediately, the snowy-haired angel glanced up, his eyes twinkling innocently. “Come up here a moment.”

Obeying, Koujaku placed his hands either side of the other’s hips, guiding him to turn around.

“What are you doing, Koujaku-san?”

He hesitated. “I want to make you feel good. I’ve never done this before, though,” he added, slightly edgy as if apologising for his potentially dreadful fellatio skills.

Smiling, Clear switched places with Koujaku, his chest falling and rising rapidly in anticipation. Even as Koujaku barely grazed his member with his lips, Clear inhaled sharply. The hot air that was being breathed onto him seemed to stimulate him even more. He let out a rush of breath when Koujaku licked up the ridge on the underside of his cock, experimentally swirling his tongue around the head as if to taste him. Feeling daring, Koujaku tried his hand at taking Clear into his mouth. It was no easy feat; not only was Clear long he was also impressively thick, the girth of him almost taking up all of the room in Koujaku’s mouth. He persevered, however, slowly working his way up and down Clear’s length, sure to hollow his cheeks every now and then. He wasn’t sure if that would be any good – he’d only ever seen it done in porn – but when Clear moaned quietly it spurred him on.

Clear shifted and gently tugged Koujaku upright in order to kiss him on the mouth. “Koujaku-san,” he breathed, caressing the other man’s chest, “will you let me take you?”

Koujaku’s stomach clenched. True, the prospect of Clear’s cock going into uncharted territory was an abnormal thought – yet he felt no other inhibition other than to reply a breathy, “Yes.”

With trembling hands, Koujaku reached over to his bedside cabinet and extracted a vial of lube. It was mostly unused. Clear accepted it, cupping the other man’s face and kissing him as if to provide some form of distraction. Once his fingers were coated in lube, Clear glanced up.

“Shall I…?”

Koujaku nodded. His teeth clamped down hard on his bottom limp when the first digit pressed slowly into him, breathing deeply to relax, trying instead to concentrate on the way Clear continued to pay attention to his cock. The second finger wasn’t so bad. It was when Clear slipped in a third and began to move them about slightly did it burn.

“Does it hurt, Koujaku-san?”

“It’s fine. Don’t stop.”

Clear scissored his fingers in order to open up Koujaku more, curling them this way and that. “Are you ready?”

Another nod. Truly, Koujaku thought that his voice might crack if he attempted to speak. He watched as the other man slicked his cock in a liberal amount of lube before positioning himself correctly. Once aligned, he slowly began to push in, spreading Koujaku’s legs wider in order for easier access. It burned. Oh fuck, did it burn; it felt as if he were being torn apart from the inside out, clutching at the bedsheets and gritting his teeth as Clear slowly pulled out slightly before going back in again. Each time, he inserted himself slightly deeper than before, sucking on Koujaku’s nipples.

“Clear!” he cried out hoarsely the moment he felt his nubs being toyed with. It helped. Fairly soon, Clear was buried up to the hilt. They rested their foreheads together, slightly sticky from perspiration already.

“M-move,” Koujaku stammered.

It was all Clear needed. Gentle at first, he pulled almost all the way out, the burying himself again, watching the hairdresser’s face for any signs of extreme discomfort. The moment a wanton moan escaped Koujaku’s lips, Clear picked up his pace, sighing as the other man’s heat overtook him.

“Koujaku-san feels so good,” he murmured into the shell of Koujaku’s ear.

The ravenet blushed. “Don’t say weird things like that.”

“Sorry.” Suddenly, Clear jerked out of the steady pace he’d been so far keeping up with, hitting that sought out pearl only for a second. Koujaku’s back jolted and he cried out. “Did that hurt, Koujaku-san?”

“No, not at all,” the other replied hastily. “It – it actually felt really good.”

“Should I do it again?”

“Y-yes.”

Clear angled his hips to hit the other’s prostate. Koujaku brought his knees up at the foreign yet delicious sensation, moaning louder into the room, his wanton sounds mingling with Clear’s controlled sighs. Koujaku’s engorged cock twitched. He needed to come soon.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed as Clear gave a particularly zealous thrust. “Yes, Clear, please, d-do it more.”

“Do what more, Koujaku-san?” the other enquired, sucking at the exposed skin of Koujaku’s neck, causing him to moan louder at the contact.

“Just – just fuck me harder.” He felt ridiculous saying it yet there was something attractive about the way Clear hummed against his throat, nipping at the flesh and sucking hard enough to leave marks. “Ah, fuck!”

Clear pushed Koujaku’s knees so that they touched his chest, allowing better access to that pearl of pleasure inside him. Clear’s thick cock stretched him apart. Koujaku felt every inch slip easily in and out of him, felt his ass being mercilessly pounded by the man above him, felt the occasional sloppy kiss on his mouth and a tongue eagerly force entry.

“I’m gonna – soon –” Koujaku spoke in broken sentences as his vision blurred, “Ah, Clear! Yes, yes – just – please – harder –”

Clear leant down, his head bowed and turned Koujaku’s face so their eyes met. “I want to see Koujaku-san’s face when you come.”

“Mmf – n-now, I’m gonna come –”

Koujaku reached the peak of his orgasm, tumbling over the precipice as ecstasy took a hold of his body. His loins burned, his legs twitched, he cried out so loud he thought he may lose his voice; he spurted great reams of semen over his stomach and his shoulders shook violently as his vision deteriorated and cock gave a few final short bursts.

“Koujaku-san.”

The ravenet was barely aware of the other man breathing his name before he came, too, with a low guttural groan, finally allowing his body to slump and forehead rest on Koujaku’s chest. Their hearts raced almost in time with each other. Chests heaving and bodies sweaty, Clear rolled over and allowed Koujaku to rest his head in the crook of his arm. For once, words failed them, and the comfortably shared silence until the room began to dim as the sun set outside.

“I’m glad I got to share that with you,” Koujaku murmured after some time. His fingers traced small, gentle circles on the other man’s pale chest whilst Clear toyed softly with dark locks of hair. “Clear, I…” Koujaku cleared his throat. “I’m happy that you’re a part of my life.”

“I’m happy too, Koujaku-san.” Clear kissed the top of his head.

“I hope you’ll stick around a bit longer.”

“Of course I will! I mean we’re both a bit tired now and it’s getting dark outside –”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh!” Clear paused. “I’d like that, if Koujaku-san would have me.”

“Yeah, of course I would.”

Smiling fondly, Koujaku pecked a kiss on the two moles on Clear’s chin, before planting several more along his jawline, eliciting a giggle from the snowy-hair man. Resting comfortably in their shared silence, Koujaku lost himself in the tantalising feel of fingers in his hair that occasionally grazed across his cheek. He suddenly remembered the promise he’d made and, upon opening his mouth, shut it again almost immediately, instead closing his eyes blissfully. There was no rush. After all, they had a whole lifetime together for things like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Clear isn't as much of an angel as everyone thought ohohohoho anyway thanks for reading hope you enjoyed! keep an eye out for more updates about these two~


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